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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505187">Arda Falls Apart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko'>Umeko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dysfunctional [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Dagor Dagorath does not go according to Namo's predictions? What if various members of the House of Finwe end up captured and at Morgoth's mercy?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon, Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Oromë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dysfunctional [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/519088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Melkor's Three Jewels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>How much worse can 2021 be after the horrid year of 2020? Let’s not tempt Fate by calling out the ways this pandemic can develop into something way, way worse – like 1918 flu or the Black Death or a load of historical plagues that wipe out more than half of a city’s population. Wait, I just jinxed us, didn’t I?</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Well, here is a dark, creepy smutathon where the Dark Lords of the Silmarillion and LotR win. All nasty and nothing nice.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It would have been easier not to remember when they had been princes. When their father was not pinned to the ceiling as a mute witness to their humiliation for his transgression in daring to defy their Master. When being decked in fine silks and gems was not a prelude to one of their lewd games. Feanaro’s face burned with shame as rough hands wound in his hair and pulled him close for a cruel kiss that tore his lips. He could not resist or it would be worse for his family. Not only his siblings but his wife, sons Nelyo and Kano, and grandson Tyelpe. He did not know if the others had been captured too.  </p><p>Lord Melkor liked his toys close, chained to his throne or the foot of his bed. Feanaro was his favourite naturally. Now his plaything squirmed and keened in his lap as he clawed bloody furrows into the elf’s back. He watched nonchalantly over the trembling elf’s shoulder as his balrogs and orcs used the other sons of Finwe for sport. He gave a languid thrust into Feanaro’s body, eliciting a harsh cry of pain. He so enjoyed taking the proud Feanaro apart.</p><p>Namo the fool was wrong about the outcome of the last battle, now all the Eldar save a few holdouts under Lords Orome and Ulmo are in his thrall. It was probably a mistake cutting off Nessa’s feet and raping Vana. Melkor should have settled for simplycutting off Tulkas’ feet. Orome was unlikely to forgive the sins committed against his sister and wife. Aule and his wife Yavanna had vanished with a handful of their trusted Maiar and followers. The remaining Valar, including now- blinded the Doomsman, were locked in his dungeons.</p><p>The Noldor king and princes had sought to overthrow him and must now pay the price. Feanaro had fought at first, as did his brothers, spitting curses at him. He had punished them thoroughly for their defiance. Pinning their father to the ceiling and cursing him to watch his family suffer. Giving their captured womenfolk to the orc pens as breeding stock. Nolofinwe had wept when told his noble wife was now squeezing out litters of orcs. Finwe’s second wife and daughters were also bearing litters of orcs and will continue doing so until they were worn out.</p><p>The sons of Finwe did tend towards fertile wives. A pity Feanaro’s wife escaped his grasp with Aule. She would have produced fine orcs. The Teleri princess slipped through his grasp as well, turning into an eel and slithering away when cornered on the coast. Of course, he did not tell their husbands they were still free. Feanaro’s mother did not fare so well in the breeding pens, dying birthing her first litter and he had her flesh fed to her son and stepsons, mocking them as they were forced to eat elven flesh. They had been sick afterwards, refusing all sustenance until Mairon fixed them. Mairon often fixed his toys when he got too carried away and broke them.</p><p>With a growl, he tugged at the chain attached to the ruby-studded collar so that it dug into Feanaro’s neck. Gold and rubies for Feanaro, silver for his brothers – sapphires for the warrior Nolofinwe and pearls for the blond with a Teleri wife. The Dark Lord seized Feanaro’s thighs, feeling his slave’s pelvis snap as he spurted his burning seed into him. The hapless elf screamed and went limp. He threw the elf down from his throne, watching him bounce down the stairs. His bruised and bloodied brothers were already crawling towards him, well before he rolled to a stop. When Lord Melkor was finished, the games were over. Lust sated for the moment, Melkor considered the brothers. Perhaps he would have the two younger princes in his bed later with Mairon. Feanaro’s body was too wrecked to be of use for a while.</p>
<hr/><p>Alone in the throne room and chained to the foot of the massive black throne, Feanaro whimpered weakly. He was in massive pain both inside and out and covered with filth. Mairon would not tend to him until he was done with his master’s bed sports. His ass was horribly torn up. At least he did not have Melkor’s cock spilling down his throat this time. He feared for his brothers. It was with great relief that the pair finally returned and were chained alongside him by orc-guards.</p><p>“Lord Mairon sent us away… when they tired of us…” It may be a day or a week before Mairon deigned to check on them, broken pelvis, internal burns or not. Arafinwe’s voice was hoarse and his neck bruised under the collar. There were many other bruises on his body and his back was a mess of bloody wounds. Blood streaked down his naked thighs, as did seed.</p><p>“I’m sorry…” Nolofinwe murmured. He avoided looking at his brothers.</p><p>“Not your fault,” Feanaro spat. He knew enough of the evil pair’s twisted games. They would make their prisoners torture each other under threat of dire punishment. When Feanaro refused to rape his younger brother for their pleasure, they threw Arafinwe to a troll and had him watch it mount Arafinwe in his stead.</p><p>Knowing he was in too much pain to move, Nolofinwe and Arafinwe crawled close to enfold Feanaro in a gentle hug.</p><p>“Think they will save us?” Arafinwe murmured into his eldest brother’s hair. He sounded like he did when he was a young child and terrified of leaving home for Olwe’s court. He had gone to his eldest brother seeking comfort, which Feanaro had denied him. He had called him a coward and a spoilt brat. That move to Alqualonde had turned out to be for the best for his shy, gentle brother. <em>Brother, not half-brother, or brat.</em> This time, the words choked in his throat. He had no comfort to offer.</p><p>“The Valar will prevail…” there was bite of bitter desperation in Nolofinwe’s voice. Feanaro could not reply, except to squeeze their hands. With Irmo imprisoned with his brother Namo, there was no dreams of succour to be had or oblivion of Mandos open to the Eldar. During their toture, Melkor had openly taunted them of the fates of the Valar the Eldar had so trusted.</p><p>“He calls us his three jewels… he will never let us go…” Arafinwe moaned. Perhaps he had been hurt worse than they thought. His skin was clammy and ashen. Nolofinwe grunted, stifling his own cries of pain. Feanaro saw how his brother’s legs were twisted and crooked.</p><p>For a moment, Feanaro toyed with the notion of using his length of chain to choke both his brothers and spare them further suffering. It quickly flickered out. No one knew what happened to the Elven fea now that Namo was cut off from his domain. They called Mairon the Necromancer. <em>Do the fea of the Eldar now fall into Mairon’s hands to be reshaped into creatures to Melkor’s liking?</em> Feanaro tried not to imagine what happened to his mother’s fea in death.</p><p>“Please, hang on,” Nolofinwe added faintly. “We have to… until… ” his words faltered into silence as he slumped against Feanaro’s shoulder.</p><p>Lord Mairon and his minions would fix them up so that they would continue to entertain Lord Melkor until they were finally broken beyond repair. It should not be too long now, Feanaro laughed silently in the dark. Even Mairon could only patch them up so much. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This part of the series is a stand-alone AU.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Elleth's Gamble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The womenfolk captured are imprisoned for use as breeding stock. Lalwen takes a gamble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please, please see the warnings and go back if not your cuppa tea. This series ignores LaCE.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It could have been months or years even. There was never daylight in the breeding pens. There were at least two dozen of them in this one. Indis cradled her swollen belly. Her time was coming. This was her third litter. Her eldest had just delivered another litter of orcs, disgustedly malformed but sharp-teethed at birth. Findis now moaned in a puddle of her birth-fluids as the orc-pups fought for a chance to feed at her breasts before their keepers came to take them away. Mother’s flesh did as well as milk for such beasts. Many of their fellow prisoners already had their breasts chewed to pieces by their twisted offspring.</p><p>Sometimes an elf-child would be born among the litter, to be devoured by its siblings before the keepers could snatch it up for a lifetime of slavery in the rebuilt Utumno. Sometimes their mothers would smother them to spare them the torments of life as an elf-thrall. Anaire had smothered two of her elf-children already. Once a breeding elleth was done whelping, she was given scarcely enough time to recover from the birth before being taken out for the chosen orcs to mate and sire more orcs on. Indis sobbed and hugged herself, trying to block out the horror of being thrown into a cell to be used by numerous orcs until they had forced her womb to take their seed. It could take days or weeks or months, one lost track of all the cocks rammed into them.</p><p>The keepers were no better, being orcs or fallen Maiar themselves. Once an elleth was deemed to be with a litter, she was to be returned to the pens until the birth. However, some chose to ignore the rules and continue abusing the women until mere weeks before birth. Lalwen had caught the eye of an orc-captain who had taken her to his chambers despite her current swollen state. Indis feared for her safety. Orcs were never considerate lovers and many a breeding elleth had fallen foul of their violent tempers.</p><p><em>How many more litters will they bear before their hroar gave out? Five? Ten</em>? Few of the ellyth who were there when they were first sent to the pens were still there, killed by the relentless abuse from the orcs, worn out from birthing. Someone had died in the dark. The keepers were dragging out the corpse. They had came to collect the young orcs. No one knew where they would be taken to and what awaited them. Indis was past caring. These were not her children. She could still hear Findis’ whimpering, which was a good thing. They would leave her for a while at least. Her law-daughter had been taken back to the breeding cells some time ago and had not yet returned.</p>
<hr/><p>Lalwen felt a twinge of guilt, but it did not last too long. She was swollen and would remain so for a while. Yet that seemed to be part of the appeal to the captain who was now rutting into her as she bounced on his cock. Rough hands groped at her breasts and tugged at her hair. As his pet, she was given better food and lodging, at a price.</p><p>This was an orc-man, a half-bred between the Secondborn and orc. One of Lord Mairon’s experiments that bore fruit. Orcs tend to dimmish in intellectual abilities within two generations. Most of the leadership roles were filled by such orc-men bred with captured slaves.</p><p>“My pretty little cunt…” he slobbered into her ear as he spilled into her tight ass. His hot seed burned her inside. Her throat and womanhood were still sore from his recent use. “Next time you bear my sons…”</p><p><em>Did he intend to keep her until she bore her current litter before siring his own offspring on her?</em> She fought to keep her gorge down. She would have to bear it. She had learnt to pander to his tastes so as to avoid antagonizing him. There had been a slave girl who had displeased the captain, Lalwen had watched in horror as he tore her belly open. The night was still young. He would have her at least twice more in each orifice before he was sated.</p><p>Perhaps if she could hold his favour, she could get her mother and sister better treatment, Anaire too. Surely the enemy would have killed her father and brothers by now. She forced a smile and kissed him back. At least it was just one orc captain and not an endless line of orcs trying to get her with child.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have a few more chapters in progress left to polish up before posting.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dream or Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tyelpe has problems telling what is real anymore.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sauron really likes messing with Tyelpe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“An- Sauron…”</p><p>“It is Mairon now, Tyelpe…” a finger traced his lower lip. “Why can’t we go back to what we were, hm?”</p><p>“You betrayed us, tortured me to death and hung me up as a banner…” Celebrimbor spat. “I thought you were my friend…”</p><p>“And much more, my dear husband,” Mairon smiled indulgently and tapped the golden ring on the elf’s finger. A matching one gleamed on the Maia’s hand. Celebrimbor frowned. He could not recall having been bonded to Annatar, for good reason. It was another lie for his sweet little elf, to render him more pliant.</p><p>He had styled this corner of Utumno for the elf’s sensibilities. A garden with caged songbirds and flowering shrubs, a library with books and all the comforts reminiscent of Eregion. Except for the forges. Melkor would never allow a member of the House of Feanor anywhere near a forge. The garden was lit by lamps, Arien having been lost. On closer inspection, the flowers were crafted from precious metals and gems. The birds were clever little machines that mimicked their songs. Nothing of Yavanna’s creation could survive long here.</p><p>He had even provided Celebrimbor with companionship in the forms of his uncles and cousin. He had collected and twisted them to his purpose over the years. He so enjoyed toying with his playthings. He had enjoyed the redhead’s well-formed body on numerous occasions in Angband, taking him with his Master. Maglor was so broken when they found him, it was so easy to bend him to their will.</p><p>Finrod Felagund, well, that was an amusing one. Not only pretty, but witty too. Too bad his interests lay not in smithing, unlike Tyelpe. Little Cousin Maeglin? Nothing more than a puppet to brutalize when the fancy took him, or to dispatch on some chore outside the safety of Mairon’s chambers. The others left only in his company or when Lord Melkor desired some variety to his bed sport. Celebrimbor was no exception. Still, the thought of having to share him with his master made something inside him twist.</p><p>He glanced over to where his thralls waited to do his command. At a snap of his fingers, he could have them drag Tyelpe to their bed and tied up for his pleasure, but not today. Tyelpe noticed where Mairon was looking and shuddered. For now, his kinsmen were going about their business peacefully, but it could change in an instant. Eru knew what foul spell had been cast on his uncles and cousin. He had seen them do things to each other at Sauron's bidding...</p><p>Uncle Nelyo was placidly seated on the windowsill looking into the false garden. The Valar had restored his hroar on his re-embodiment, only for him to be captured in battle and brought to Mairon’s workshop. His body remained unmarred unless he had been taken for a session with Melkor. Yet there was something missing from his eyes. Celebrimbor prayed something salvageable remained. His redhead uncle had cradled his head in his lap, making soothing sounds and stroking his hair as his husband craved his sigil into his back.</p><p>Maglor had never returned to Valinor. Celebrimbor was horrified to learn he has been captured in Middle-earth early on and imprisoned as Mairon’s slave since. More than enough time for his will to be shattered. He strummed his harp leisurely, humming under his breath. His fellow harpist, Finrod, plucked a counter melody. He must have displeased Mairon recently, for unlike his cousins, he was nude save for the jewellery their master chose to adorn his playthings with. An impossibly large dildo had been crammed up his rear, and he perched on his elbows and knees on the couch. His skilled fingers worked on his harp strings.</p><p>“Do you wish to fuck dear Uncle Finrod, darling?” Mairon purred. “He looks positively delicious. Or shall we have Uncle Maglor to the honours?”</p><p>“No… An-Annatar…” Celebrimbor fought to shut out that seductive voice. <em>Talk about those plans for a new digging machine, that new design for the orc-pens… Anything! </em>He could feel the blood rushing to his loins. Mairon smiled, his eyes drawing his prey in.</p><p>“You look too hot…” The Maia forced his chin upwards and met his lips in a crushing kiss.</p><p>Celebrimbor’s fingers fumbled on his buttons, disobeying him. <em>Stop!</em> His upper garments were discarded on carpets. His husband tugged at his nipple-rings. He did not remember having them put in, or did Sauron add them that hazy night when Uncle Maglor was sucking his cock? <em>Was that even real?</em></p><p>Mairon turned to growl a command at the slender elf cowering at the foot of the cavernous bed. <em>That had not been there, had it?</em> Celebrimbor’s mind struggled to make sense. Dark-haired, dark-eyed Maeglin scampered forward on all fours. Mairon’s iron slave collar gleamed around his neck. His back and thighs were covered with bloody welts.</p><p><em>Sorry…</em> Celebrimbor caught the quick sign his cousin’s fingers made before he loosened the ties of his leggings. He gasped as Maeglin took his cock into his mouth and started working him to hardness. Celebrimbor moaned and his knees buckled. He knelt on the floor and his cousin followed, never missing a beat in his ministrations. By Morgoth’s balls, his Avari cousin did have a skilled tongue, even if he had his vocal cords crushed for talking back too often to his master.</p><p>“Such an obedient doggy, isn’t he?” Mairon sneered. He stroked himself as walked around them, as if admiring the tableau presented to him. He strode over to Finrod and ripped out the dildo none too gently. The blond gave a harsh cry before pitching forward into Maglor’s waiting arms. Blood, pus and filth oozed out and down his bruised thighs. Mairon nonchalantly wiped the toy off on Maglor’s hair. Celebrimbor wondered if he was now going to feel the stretch of that toy.</p><p>Uncle Nelyo and Uncle Kano now had Finrod supported between them on the couch. Mairon was saying something to them. He could not make out the words, not with Maeglin threatening to bring him to completion. His fingers dug into Maeglin’s short-cropped hair, forcing his cock further down that throat. For a hopeful moment, he thought he saw a flash of anger or defiance in his uncles’ eyes, but that soon passed.</p><p>His uncles divested themselves of their garments save for their jewellery and arranged themselves on the cavernous bed. Almost wearily, Maitimo stroked himself to hardness before Finrod settled his gaping and no doubt sore ass onto his shaft. Maglor did likewise before climbing to join his brother in rutting into the hapless blond. There was no birdsong now, only the sickening slap of sweaty skin on skin and the moans and grunts of a rough coupling bordering on rape.</p><p>Celebrimbor was so distracted by the lewd scene that he did not notice Mairon hiking up Maeglin’s ragged tunic to expose his bare bottom. Maeglin lifted his hips hopefully as Mairon brought over a large vial of oil and that dildo. The damned thing was covered with cruel spikes. Mairon did not bother with the oil for Maeglin but rammed the dry toy into him, making his scream about Celebrimbor’s cock. That finally did it. He spilled down his cousin’s throat as Maeglin spluttered in agony. He gripped Celebrimbor’s thighs in a desperate attempt to keep upright. Mairon gave a few more thrusts with the toy before his victim blacked out from the pain. </p><p>“Good boy,” Mairon smirked as he lifted Maeglin’s limp body off Celebrimbor’s legs. He kicked the unresisting elf so he rolled against the couch, his bloody entrance exposed. He dragged a weak-kneed Celebrimbor to the bed and threw him against the iron headboard.</p><p>“Darling Tyelpe, now let’s get down to business, don’t we?”</p><p>Despite himself, Celebrimbor took the oil from his husband. He poured it generously over his fingers and proceeded to stretch himself open, displaying himself for the dark Maia’s pleasure. One finger, two. Sometimes the Maia insisted on waiting until he could get his entire hand in or using one of his more creative toys. Or he might command one of his uncles to do it. Before he even knew it, he was bracing himself against the headboard as Mairon took him from behind, tugging at his braids. Cruel claws ripped into his hips.</p><p>With a mad laugh, Celebrimbor wondered if he could distract Annatar with a discussion on polygonal derivates the next time he visited.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am leaving it open as to how much control Sauron has over his toys.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Dark of the Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Primal deities are not known for being civilized. As Lord of the Hunt, Orome is no exception.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Things not looking good for the resistance.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was always attracted to danger, but Celegorm wondered if he had gone too far this time. <em>How did he, nominally leader of the Noldor now his elder brothers were gone, end up being fucked into insensibility amidst orc viscera and gore? </em>He knew Lord Orome, his mentor and lover. He trusted him. The same hands that had guided him in crafting his first bow now seemed intend on choking the life from him. With a roar, Orome spent himself again. Hopefully, this was the last time… He felt the crushing weight of the Valar lift off him. He ached all over as he gasped for breath. His lungs burned. His ass and throat burned.</p><p>“Oh Eru, I’m sorry…”</p><p>Someone was kissing his brow. Celegorm opened his eye a crack. One was swollen shut. He tried to smile but his jaw hurt too much. Orome had struck him in the face. He coughed. From a distance, he heard Huan’s whimpering. With luck, the rest of the warriors were not around to witness this episode. He was certain he had blacked out several times during the rough rutting and the puddle of orc blood he was lying in was starting to both cool and reek.</p><p>His shoulder ached. <em>Dislocated</em>, he thought before his mentor wordlessly jerked it back into place.</p><p>“Tyelko, come. I will take you back.”</p><p>“No, n-need to walk…” But his legs refused to bear his weight. Blood and seed dripped from his abused hole. His clothes were ripped to shreds and ruined by orc-blood and worse. His horse had no doubt run off by now.</p><p>“Sorry, if she were here…” Orome looked so lost and horrified, Celegorm felt like crying for everything.</p><p>There was a reason why some of the Valar needed to be joined. Orome was the Master of the Hunt and all things wild. He needed Vana to soften his more primal urges. The wild can be unforgiving. Even the act of procreation in the wild was a rough and often bloody affair. Without Vana at his side, Orome was becoming more unpredictable when the bloodlust took hold during a hunt.</p><p>Celegorm thought he could contain it by remaining close to his Master. They had been lovers on and off since the Years of the Trees. He could take rough, but he was still an Elda, and no match for a Vala’s strength. It was becoming more often and they knew it. At first, they met outside the camp for a quick rough rutting in the darkness every week. Then they had to do it after every other hunt. If Orome should lose control with some unsuspecting elf…</p><p>They had been caught off-guard this time, chasing the orcs deep into the woods. On eradicating the orcs, Orome had been overcome with a primal urge to rut, and Celegorm had been knocked bodily from his horse and shoved facedown into a pile of orc-guts and his leggings ripped open before he even knew what was happening.</p><p>“Next time, I will keep myself ready…”</p><p>“We know that is not the solution… We need to find Aule, Ulmo…”</p><p>“And have them cage you up?” Celegorm demanded, but Orome was gone. He shivered.</p>
<hr/><p>“Tyelko?” <em>Aredhel?</em> Celegorm groaned. <em>Of course, Huan had to fetch her</em>. His hound bounded up and whined uncertainly.</p><p>Aredhel trotted up on her horse and threw him a set of clean clothes.</p><p>“He really savaged you this time,” she sniffed. “Maybe you should go wash first before we go back. There is a creek nearby. Can you walk? Your horse made it back, but she’s really spooked.” Naturally, the poor mare would be freaked out by having Orome turn into some giant wolf-creature with antlers. </p><p>In the end, she needed to help him down to the creek to wash. The cool water was both a balm and a torture on his sore body, but it got off most of the gore.</p><p>“We need to talk… about Orome.”</p><p>“It’s alright, he wouldn’t hurt me.”</p><p>“He already did.”</p><p>“Irisse, we need him… I can bear it, alone.”</p><p>“Until he rips out your throat for real.”</p><p>“Promise me. Don’t tell anyone.”</p><p>“They all know already, you dolt. Fingon, Moryo, Curvo, and the twins… Do you think your secret trysts in the woods are that secret?”</p><p>“Does anyone have a better option? Have Aule chain Orome up like an animal? You know what Morgoth did to his sister and wife... He has Nelyo, Kano, and…”</p><p>“Morgoth has my son too. And my parents… We are all grieving and in pain. But Lord Orome is a Vala. It is different when they grieve… He needs help…”</p><p>“And Lady Este got herself captured.”</p><p>He managed somehow to get dressed and onto Haun’s back, with Aredhel’s help. It will be a long and painful ride back to camp but he will manage it. He had to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Celegorm is trying to keep control of things but losing it quick.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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